Halfway Between Noon and Sunset
by SperryDee
Summary: Teatime's back...and he's not entirely human...eventual SusanxTeatime. T for now.
1. Between Corporealities

Halfway Between Noon and Sunset

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Terry owns. I don't. I own Jenna and any character you don't recognize from Discworld, though. And I wish I owned Teatime. A nice, semi-insane assassin to keep me warm at night…grins

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Teatime was dead to begin with. Well, that's not exactly true. He was…mostly dead. No longer living, certainly. Few survive a poker through the chest, after all. Jonathan Teatime simply passed off the mortal coil…and into somewhere else.

So it was quite a surprise to Jonathan when he awoke not in the afterlife, but upon the cold hardness of a mosaic floor. Getting to his feet, he blinked. Bugger….his other eye was gone…back to monocularity…until he could get it back. He gazed at his surroundings. A red-haired woman stared back at him.

"I was wondering when you'd come to," she said nonchalantly. "It was getting rather boring, to tell the truth."

He looked at the woman, who was seated on a throne upon an elaborate dais at the end of the room. Her green eyes flickered as she took a drag on the cigarette situated between her index and middle fingers. He blinked. "…I don't believe we've met, Miss…" The training bought of twenty years of training in the Assassin's Guild came to the fore as he tried to make some sense whatsoever of the situation.

"Ellis. Jenna Ellis, Lady of Limbo and Mistress of the Mists Between."

"Between what?"

"What?"

"Mistress of the Mists Between what?"

"It's a title. Inherited." She took another drag on her cigarette. "It doesn't have to make sense."

"What am I doing here?"

"Well, Mr. Teatime…Let me tell you a story," she said. "Once upon a time there was a woman named Jael, who was from a very poor family. Her mother, her brothers, her sisters, they were all gone, killed in the plagues that swept the land. Only she and her father remained, but her father's sight was going and he could no longer work as a tailor, so when Aram the baker asked for Jael's hand, she accepted, for while she was pretty, few men in those days would take a wife with no dowry. And Jael was happy, 

working in the bakery. But the plague came again, and Aram died, and so Jael, not yet twenty, was left a widow.

And it came to pass in those days that the Lord of Limbo, Oldaho, walked upon the Disc, and saw Jael, and was enamored. He waylaid her in an alley and took her by force. And he left her with child…a daughter whom Jael named Jenna. Jenna grew up, helping her mother in the bakery, but when the plague came again, Jael was taken, as was Jenna's grandfather. Jenna was all alone in the world.

So Jenna set out traveling, and came upon the dukedom of Munas-Ciresti in Uberwald, and encountered the young duke, Jehan von Mureciz. Jenna had her mother's beauty, and the duke was enamored of her, and Jenna in her turn, loved the duke. They were married two years when Jenna bore a daughter, Jocelin, and Jenna thought her life could not get any better." She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, and continued.

"But pestilence came to Uberwald as it did to the plains, and the whole town was sickened. Many died, including Duke Jehan, and Jocelin, who was but three. The dukedom went to a distant relative, and Jenna wandered again. And it was upon her wanderings that she was summoned to Limbo. Her father, Oldaho, Lord of Limbo, had died, and the power of Limbo passed unto his only child, Jenna.

And Jenna stayed in Limbo, keeping an eye on the Disc, and recruiting agents to serve her purposes. Which is where you come in, Jonathan."

"Why should I help you?"

"Well, here's another little story. This one takes place in Ankh-Morpork, not too long ago. You see, once there was a woman named Elizabeth. Her father, William Graves, was a famous Assassin. He had hopes that Elizabeth would marry an Assassin and continue the family tradition of inhuming others. But Elizabeth caught the eye of a young mortician named Ambrose, and against her father's wishes, they were wed. They were quite alike: brilliant, curious, and above all, inventive. Ambrose was always experimenting with different ways of preserving bodies. Unfortunately, it was those experiments that led to a terrible tragedy.

"Now the family, I say family because by that time, Elizabeth had given birth to a son, Jonathan, and he was the best of both Ambrose and Elizabeth combined; the family lived in the upper two floors of the funeral parlour. But late one night, a candle tipped over and ignited some of Ambrose's experimental embalming fluids. The parlour was set ablaze by the spreading fluids, and Ambrose and Elizabeth died in their beds from the ghastly fumes. Only Jonathan, asleep in his attic nursery, for he was only three at the time, you understand, only Jonathan survived, along with a tabby cat who had most of its fur scorched off.

"Jonathan was sent to the Assassin's Guild, as per the wishes of his grandfather, his only surviving relative, who used his influence to ensure that Jonathan would be looked after. But Jonathan's grandfather died in an unfortunate incident involving a pineapple and a pair of bootlaces a few months later, and young Jonathan Teatime was quite alone indeed."

His eye narrowed. "I already know this."

Jenna waved her hand dismissively. "In time, Jonathan grew into a fine young man. He excelled at his studies, but he was often bullied by other students. And as often happens with the perpetually powerless, Jonathan turned inward, until one day, he had a plan. With ritual exactness, he offered a bargain to the powers that be. Ah ah, Jonathan, don't argue, it was indeed a bargain, though you were unaware of the consequences of it. In exchange for the sacrifice of an eye, he fashioned himself a new eye of scrying crystal, and with it, gained the power to see things others could not. But who gave him that power? The crystal on its own could not have caused such changes. No, someone that day was –listening-. Me."

"We never had a bargain!"

"We did, and we do. I delivered my part, now it's time for you to do yours. When I saw you, all those years ago, I saw the same chaos in your soul that is at the very heart of Limbo. And someone of your talents will be very useful to me in my next undertaking." Her voice turned unctuous. "But I'm not entirely heartless. In exchange for being my agent, you will be granted a chance to finish what you started. A way back. A body." She let that sentence hang in the air like a tantalizing fruit to a starving man. "Think of it, Jonathan. To be back on the Disc, to live again…to perhaps pursue that lovely Miss Susan you had such chemistry with inside the Tooth Fairy's castle…"

Jonathan felt himself regain corporeality. "I think I can handle things on my own," he said, and in an instant, had his knife at her throat.

His knife fell to the floor. Jonathan looked down. He was incorporeal again. Jenna's eyes had turned dark with anger. "Let me make this clear, Mr. Te-ah-ti-me." She pronounced every syllable like it was a dagger into his flesh. "Your life, such as it is, exists solely because I will it so. When you gave up your eye, you became…how do I put this…not completely human. Only mostly human, in fact. A bit of Limbo now resides within you, melded irrevocably to your essence. And as I am the Lady of Limbo, you are subject to my will. Do you understand?"

He nodded, staring through his hand. Slowly, it solidified into flesh once more.

"I will gift you with life, and money, and other such mortal accoutrements, and in exchange, you will be my Assassin on retainer. I am hiring you. But there is no getting out of this contract, no changing the terms. You will inhume who I tell you to, and if I specify a method, you will do that, as well. You will reap the benefits, believe me. Now do we have an agreement, or will I send you back to the void of Limbo, doomed to wander the mists until the end of time or your soul evaporates, which ever comes first?"

"We have an agreement, Miss Ellis." He grinned and bowed to her, doffing an imaginary hat.

"Excellent."


	2. At last, my skull is complete again!

Once again, I don't own, please don't sue. All I own is a half-assembled Susan as Death cosplay outfit.

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"Now, as to how we shall proceed," she sighed, inhaling deeply on her cigarette. "I have placed ample funds in an account at the Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork, and have signed papers granting you access. As for lodging, I presume you would wish to inhabit your former lodgings?"

Teatime remembered his flat, allowed him by the guild because of the numerous incidents suggesting he was…unsuited for the dormitories. It would be fine to return there, where no one bothered him, and the landlady even pronounced his name correctly. He nodded.

"Your habit of paying rent months in advance does you credit, and as such, you are not yet in arrears, so I will simply ensure that you do not become so. " She rang a small bell, and a servant, a tall man in a gold loincloth, came running. "A chair for Mr. Teatime, Haran. And some wine, if you would. Tell the steward I trust his judgment to choose something suitable." She dismissed the servant with a wave.

"I will give you time to get settled before your first…assignment. My…assistant, Vegnencia, will be your…what is the word? Oh yes, handler. She will watch over you, so to speak. But first…ah, yes, over there, Haran." The servant entered with a chair in one hand and a wine service in the other.

Teatime sat, accepting the goblet of wine.

Jenna took the goblet offered her, and took a sip. "Tell the steward I am pleased with his choice, Haran." She took another sip. "Now, Jonathan, if there is anything you should require, simply tell Vegnencia and she will convey the message to me. Do you have any questions?"

"Just one: how do I get my eye back?"

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The Gaiters' house was empty when he arrived; not that it would've made a difference to him, but it made the job easier. He could feel his eye calling to him, and it was simple work finding it: one of the children had left it in the schoolroom…almost pathetic, really, how easy it was.

And how good to have it back in again. He always got the most terrible migraines without it, and he always felt as if someone was lurking just behind his shoulder. With the scrying crystal back in its rightful place, he was better than ever!

He was just slipping out the side door when he collided with something…or rather, someone, in the doorway. Looking down at the figure who was occupied with retrieving their dropped parcels, he grinned wickedly.

"Hello, Susan…"

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	3. I Can't Deal With You When I'm Sober

Terry owns, not me. I just fangirl.

--

Head still ringing from where she'd boxed his ears, trying to catch his breath while wincing from the pain of a very bruised solar plexus, Jonathan Teatime realized that a strategic retreat was in order, before she came back with a poker, as she'd threatened.

He hadn't expected her to react so…violently. Yell, maybe, perhaps even attempt to slap him. But boxing his ears? He hadn't predicted that. It was his luck that as she tried to knee him in the groin, he was already collapsing to his knees in pain, so her rather hard knee had come in contact with his solar plexus instead. Cursing him with language he hadn't expected a woman of her breeding to use, she had gathered her parcels and made the firm threat that if he was still there when she came back, she'd shove a poker through his chest…again.

Assassins didn't run. But strategic retreating, certainly. So he retired to his flat, the top floor of a rather old house run by Mrs. Lin, who lived in the basement and didn't ask questions so long as you didn't make too much noise and paid your rent on time, and, unique among most people, she actually pronounced his name correctly, leading him to view her with something, while not akin to actually liking her, a feeling that would make him think twice about killing her, certainly.

"See you got your eye back. Good." There was a woman sitting on his bed. A short, dark-clad woman was sitting on his bed.

"Who are you?"

"Vegnencia. Nencia to my friends, which you currently aren't. I'm your handler."

"I don't need a handler." He drew his knife, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying through the air to land straight in her chest…or it should have. Instead, it passed through her and into the wall.

Vegnencia looked at the knife sticking out of the wall. "Figured you'd try that. It doesn't work on me. Nothing does." She removed the knife and handed it back to him. "'Ere." She sighed. "You know, Jenna, she figured you'd do sommat like this. " She got up. "C'mon, Teacup."

"It's Te-ah-ti-may," he said, glaring, but he followed her, plotting ways to succeed where the knife hadn't.

"And I don't give a rat's arse. One of the conditions of your employment by her is that you listen to me. I don't like this any more than you do." She stopped at a tobacconist's. "One packet of Vox Diabolicas."

"Ninepence, miss."

Vegnencia handed over the money and took the cigarettes, pulling one out of the carton. Glaring at the end, it started to smoulder and she inhaled deeply. There was a strong smell of sulphur. "N'matter how 

ye do it, trying to kill me doesn' work. I pop right back into existence, no matter what anyone does. It's a side effect of being cursed by the creator. I do this until the end of all things. Tried ending myself...poison, elements, a bomb to the heart...it hurts like hell, 's about it." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "They call these things a slow suicide, y'know?" She laughed bitterly. "I'd give my left tit for a quick one that worked." She slowed to a stop in front of a door which looked no different than any of the others, and waited for Teatime to notice.

"What is this place?"

"Biers. It's a bar."

"Is this part of what Jenna asked you to do?"

"Not specifically, but I have my reasons."

Teatime looked quizzically at her.

"Reason number one, I need a drink. Number two, consider it an exercise in people-watching. And number three, I need a drink. You're not the type I want to deal with while sober. Now come in, follow my lead, and don't make eye contact."

--

After what she'd seen, Susan needed a drink. She was lucky: tonight was her night off, and so, she headed to Biers. Within moments of her sitting down, however, she was joined by Angua and Cheri. The three had formed a sort of friendship, mainly through the odd evening of sitting together, drinking and not saying much.

"You're hitting the drink harder than usual tonight," Angua commented, bringing over another round of beverages. "Rough time with the children?"

Susan snorted. "Hardly. Just something…someone…I thought I'd taken care of…"

"And they show up again and life goes wahooni-shaped?" Cheri asked.

Susan nodded, and the other women didn't say anything else. Everyone had times like that, and quiet camaraderie was usually the best bet.

--

"A pint of Shoggoth's for me, Igor," Vegnencia said, sidling up to the bar. She glared at Teatime.

"Wine for me."

Teatime sat, sipping his wine, and looked around. A flash of white hair with a black streak. Their eyes met across the semi-crowded bar, and he grinned. This was going to be –_fun-_.

--

I know people are reading this, and really, if it's not too much trouble, would you please review? I don't know who told people I don't like feedback, but it's not true! And I almost always reply to reviews, too.

virtual cookies to reviewers


	4. Susan 1, Teatime 0

First off, thanks to R and superbanana, who were my very first reviewers! And of course, eternal thanks to Auri, as always, for being so incredibly awesome.

And now, the legal bit:

I don't own, Terry does. I just fangirl (and cosplay!)

--

Susan blanched. "Sod it," she muttered. "Not –here-…"

"Let me guess….'someone' has showed up?" Cheri asked.

"I ought to leave." Susan tried to rise.

"Stay," Angua said, placing a firm hand on Susan's shoulder. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Susan snorted, but stayed where she was, wishing she had a weapon of some sort with which to bash his brains in. "Let me have your truncheon, Angua."

"Why?"

"Call it an insurance policy."

"Mister Vimes'd go spare if she did," Cheri pointed out. "Well, unless she had a good reason."

"If he comes over here, I will have a bloody good reason."

"We'll see if he actually does," Angua said, trying to calm Susan down. Ironic, it was, only two days from That Time of the Month, and yet here she was, restraining someone else, telling –them- to calm down.

"I wish I'd brought the poker," Susan muttered.

--

"Where do you think you're going, sunshine?" Vegnencia asked as Teatime stood.

"Over there."

Vegnencia glanced where he was pointing to. "First off, don't point. It attracts attention. Secondly, I presume the girl over there with the murderous scowl is your Miss Susan?"

Teatime nodded. His Susan…yes, he liked the sound of that.

"You don't just go over there, bold as brass. There's a …wossname…etiquette to this sort of thing. What you do not do is stride over there. That's asking to get injured, and knowing the company she's keeping at the moment, you might wind up with some very painful injuries indeed. Most likely, in fact, considering the time of the month. What you –do- do, Sonny Jim, is go over to Igor at the bar, slip him a bob, and ask him to send a drink over to your lady there, with your compliments. Then you get me 

another beer and come and sit back down. Then it's up to her to make the next move. 'S how things are done."

"Why do I get you another beer? Is that part of the etiquette?"

"You get me another pint because I sodding well need one. Now go." He stood there. "Go!"

Still slightly confused, Teatime did as he was told, then returned to the table with Vegnencia's beer.

"Now what?"

"You wait."

--

Susan looked surprised when Igor came over to the table, carrying a drink. "Since when are you a waiter, Igor?"

"The bloke over there wiv th' funny eye asked me t' bring this ter you, wiv his compliments," Igor said, setting it down on the table.

Susan groaned. "Thank you, Igor." As the barman shuffled back off to the counter, Susan put her head in her hands. "I'm going to kill him…again."

"It's rather sweet, actually," Cheri ventured. "Sending you a drink. Most men wouldn't do that."

"Especially not here," Angua added.

Susan's glare could've stripped paint off of walls two miles away. "He is not being…eurgh…sweet. What he is being is a bloody nuisance. The words sweet, and –him- do not go together in any sentence unless preceded by a negative. Ever." She was still deciding what to do when Schlimazel's voice broke through the mostly-quiet atmosphere of the bar, as the very-drunk boogeyman began to sing.

"When yer driving through the moonlight onna highway, when yer driving through the moonlight ter a dance…"

Susan stood up. "Sod this." Taking the drink with her, she strode over to the table where he was sitting.

--

Teatime hadn't expected her to come over, but he wasn't displeased that she did. He grinned. "Hello, Susan. You got the drink I sent you?"

"Oh, yes," Susan said, grinning. Teatime smiled even wider. This was a good sign. And then she upended the drink all over his lap, and just as purposefully as she had strode over there, strode out of the bar.

"Was she supposed to do that?" Teatime asked.

--

Also, if you can name the song Schlimazel started singing, I will be very impressed (and quite pleased).

I know this chapter may seem a titch on the short side, but my roommates agreed this was a good place to leave off, and also, I' m of two minds on the beginning of the next chapter, and as I will have exactly no time whatsoever until the 24th, at the very earliest….I thought I'd save you guys my indecision, at least for a while.

Enjoy!


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